


Bad Luck

by CrashCartCat



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Beta’ed by my bestest friend in the whole wide world!!, Multi, NO BETA! WE DIE LIKE MONSTERS!, Slow Burn, WIP, and yet..., baby!Jaskier, how to I tag?!, its gonna take a while, more tags will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22589254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrashCartCat/pseuds/CrashCartCat
Summary: It was a miserable fucking night when the Witcher finally arrived at the temple. The target was the young son of a Viscount.One “Julian Alfred Pankratz”.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier & Schrödinger
Comments: 28
Kudos: 213





	1. More than One Way to Skin a Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first story so it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!
> 
> Shout out to my lovely beta! Hugs and kisses for putting up with me!
> 
> NOW! Into the show!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Cat finds a Kitten in a storm and decides that it is his now, and anyone who disagrees can go die in a hole that he will dig for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> Long time no update and now I’m back! Editing chapters and soon to be posting new ones! Woo! 
> 
> Still my first foray into writing so please be gentle and any constructive feedback is appreciated!

It was a dark and stormy night, when Schrödinger finally arrived at the temple that stood three days' travel above and away from a quiet little hamlet on the outskirts of Lettenhove in Kerack. The looming architecture, a dark and oppressive figure in the rumbling flashes of the storm.

It had been a miserable week really; the rain had started and had not stopped for days, leaving him cold to the bone. Camping was a terrible chore. The wood was so damp that all that the Witcher was able to strangle from it was smoke when he tried to light a gods‘ damned fire even with the sign of Igni.  
Roads nothing but mud that would stick to your boots and make you lose them if you weren’t careful about where you stepped. The freezing wind that cut through the Witcher’s soaked travelling cloak.

The door to the temple was made of thick dark wood, heavy enough to keep the wind out, but it was nothing to the strength of a Witcher. However for this job Schrödinger would need to employ much quieter ways of entering the temple. Schrödinger kept the hood of his cloak up as he pulled the lock picks out of his pouch and easily unlocked the door, taking a deep scenting breath as he entered the holy building, it was simple to locate the scent of the target among the other scents of young boys and the priors in the building.

The target was the young son of the Viscount. Supposedly the son was a bastard that the rodent of a Viscount no longer wanted to deal with, and sending the poor son of a bitch far away wasn‘t good enough. Politics were none of Schrödinger’s business; however, all that mattered was the contract and the coin. A general description of the boy had was given to go along with a small tunic (so little, the lad must have been born deformed) that belonged to the boy for scent, short in stature (probably as small as a dwarf by now), brown hair, blue eyes and a habit of babbling; apparently, the lad knew how to run his mouth to the point of people wanting him dead.

A name had also been given to the Witcher.

One “Julian Alfred Pankratz.”

The Witcher unsheathed his steel dagger, the cats on the hilt bowed and ready to pounce. He moved through the dimly lit temple to the back door that led to the dormitories of both priests and students alike. It seemed that the Witcher’s timing was perfect. Everyone was asleep in their beds and none the wiser of the killer in their holy house. That is till one of the students would lay dead in the morning. 

Taking another breath, he moved through the shadows of the halls until he came upon the closed door of the boy’s room. Gripping the hilt of the dagger loosely, the Witcher opened the door, slipped inside and shut it quietly behind him. 

Eyes adjusting from the low light of the candle lite halls to the pitch darkness of the room, the world became shades of grey as the Witcher took a moment to take in the shape of his target. Something was wrong.  
The body on the bed was far too small, far smaller than the size of a dwarf.  
The Witcher crept closer. He paused when the tiny body turned from the wall and curled into a small ball that faced him. 

This was no child born with a deformity; this was a wee babe that probably wasn’t out of his nappies yet. An angelic face framed by wisps of hair that the Witcher could imagine being an attractive earthen brown in daylight.  
A wave of emotions washed over the Witcher. A sort of warmth at watching the boy sleep, a deep boiling anger that mixed with a stomach twisting guilt at the thought that this boy’s family sent a monster to kill the child. 

Schrödinger was so deep in his thoughts of an appropriate punishment that he didn’t notice the child waking till he heard a cooing coming from the bed. Focus narrowing on the face of his mark; the light coloured eyes held no fear, only curiosity for this figure in the dark.  
A sort of daze came over the Witcher. He could feel his pupils dilating at the look on the lad’s face than from the dark at this point.

‘Well then, the lad has the courage of a mountain cat to look upon his murderer with no fear’ The Witcher thought as the child had made little noise, ‘...either the child is brilliant or has been trained to be silent during the night’.  
Without a second thought, the Witcher sheathed his blade and crept closer to the small boy. He crouched by the mouldy straw mattress, holding out the hand that had held the dagger meant for the boy not a moment before. 

It felt almost like he was in a dream, that the smallest of breaths would shatter the quiet and cause nothing but trouble for the Witcher, yet Schrödinger couldn’t stop himself from hoping for something to take away this terrible ache in his chest.  
Then without any fear, the boy raised his tiny hands and cupped the Witcher’s own gloved hands in his own. All the air in the room suddenly felt like it was in Schrödinger’s lungs as he gently held the boy’s hands in his.  
It was decided then and there by the Witcher; he would take this boy with him. Away from this place and never to be seen by that wretch that called himself a father. The boy didn’t need a father that would send monsters to hunt him down; instead, the lad would be his to raise. He would teach this child all he needed to know about life and protect him from the cruelties of the world he had been born into. 

With gentle care, the Witcher lifted his precious child, wrapping him in a worn wool blanket from the bed. The boy couldn’t be much older than three years old and was far too light for the Witcher’s tastes. That would be something he would make sure to correct.  
With the child cradled in his arms close to his chest, the Witcher stole from the room, through the dim halls of the temple and out into the pouring rain, covering his son in his cloak to keep the boy dry.  
Into the night with the rain washing away all the evidence of his presence. The Witcher ran away with his prize.  
A son, a lineage and fresh blood.


	2. Of Buttercups and Dandelions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for being dead for a couple of months. Writer’s block and Life were kicking my ass for a while but now I’m back and kinda in business!
> 
> A cat finds a weird village but hey as long as he and his baby can get the things he needs its not his problem right?  
> ...   
> RIGHT?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dec 18th 2020: Hey! I’m BACK! And here’s some more editing done!

The storm had passed during the night, and now the dawn caressed the horizon in hues of purples, pinks and soft yellows.

The Witcher took a deep breath, scenting the air as he held his sleeping child close to his chest. It seemed that no man or monster had been in the area for some time, leaving only the beasts. It would be an excellent place to rest until he caught his breath and would be able to keep moving. A Witcher’s stamina was a blessing, but it had its limits, and those had been pushed with carrying the boy without stopping during the night. A Witcher could stand at least five days with no rest before they began to show signs of deprivation, last night having been number four for Schrödinger.

Gently the Witcher knelt to rest, placing the sleeping boy in his lap as he leaned against a tree. The hamlet was a couple of miles away, though the Witcher had avoided it on his way to the temple; he would have to acquire a horse for the journey to the coast. He wished he had gotten a horse before he made it to the temple, but there was no use for it, he would have to stop in the town and acquire one. 

Spending a couple of minutes resting against the tree, the Witcher opened his eyes when he felt movement coming from the mound of the blanket and cloak in his lap. Looking down, the Witcher chuckled as he saw the child’s face peeking out from under the edge of the blanket. 

“Good Morning,” The Witcher chuckled as the blanket fell back from the boy's head, leaving soft brown curls in a riot and a clumsy fist pushing the sleep from the boy’s blue eyes. Schrödinger ran his hand through the soft curls in an attempt to tame them before giving it up as a lost cause when it only made the mess of hair worse.

The boy hummed at the Witcher in answer, leaning into the steady strokes and whining when they stopped. They would have to change clothes before reaching the village. A man dressed in dark leather armour, carrying a small boy dressed in a slightly damp night tunic, would raise more eyebrows and suspicions then the Witcher would like. 

The elegant, frilly clothes in bright colours in the Witcher’s pack were delightfully distracting. No one expected a monster to dress in such opulent garments, after all. Along with his school’s specialty potion of Sweet Mouse and his own preference of daggers over swords, even other Witchers could be fooled into thinking that he was nothing more than a bumbling fool. 

Schrödinger still had the boy’s tunic from the Viscount’s servants; however, it wasn’t likely to be as comfortable as just wearing one of the Witcher’s tunics as he did not have a pair of trousers for the lad to wear and an oversized tunic would suit the small child just fine till appropriate garments could be obtained.

That decided the Witcher pulled out a light green tunic with silver embroidered birds on the front panels, light tan trousers. The young boy gasped at the bright colour, grasping at the soft material and pulling on it as the Witcher set him aside and started to change into the trousers first.

“Like that one, do you?”  
The boy mumbled a couple of noises at the Witcher, tugging on the tunic with a pout as it wasn’t released. The Witcher sighed as he reached into his pack, pulling out another tunic, this one in light blue with the yellow flowers of buttercups on the trim. The boy seemed to prefer the blue and released the green tunic to grab it with both hands. 

Releasing the tunic to the boy, the Witcher slipped his own over his head and looked down to see that the boy was fumbling to get the large tunic over his head. The child hadn't even taken his nightshirt off and yet he was trying to pull on the tunic over it. Schrödinger chuckled as he knelt down and assisted the young boy with getting dressed. 

Once they were both dressed the Witcher picked his son up and began walking toward the hamlet, arriving there by midmorning. The villagers had started their daily chores, a couple of farmers were out in their fields that had been ruined by the week of heavy rain. As Schrödinger and his boy walked into town, the man noticed that there seemed to be only a small population to this town. Mostly adults and a couple of the elderly, and all of them watching the newcomers.  
Suspicious, however they would be out of this town soon enough, Schrödinger only needed extra supplies for his boy and himself. Possibly a horse and cart, then they would be on the road.   
The Witcher held his boy closer as he walked into the rundown tavern. 

Allowing for his eyes to adjust to the dim of the building the Witcher surveyed the main room, seeing a woman sitting by the fire in what appeared to be a stupor and an older, portly man wiping down the counter. Presumably the innkeeper. Other than them the building was quiet, with only two other adult patrons sitting at a table playing a game of Gwent.

“Good Morning, I’m hoping I could get some assistance with procuring supplies and a cart.” The Witcher said as he walked up to the counter, passing the woman near the fire who looked up at their approach. The innkeeper eyed them for a moment, the Schrödinger’s paranoia whispering that the innkeeper looked for too long at his child. 

“Aye, I could assist you with that, however we’d be needing the coin up front, and we can only give you what we can spare.” The innkeeper nodded to the counter,the Witcher sighing as he pulled open his coin purse.

“And how much is this going to cost me?”

“Well… I can gather the provisions for you and some clothes for the boy” the innkeeper nodded to the obviously borrowed shirt that hung from the small child “but it will cost you nine crowns, and you're going to have to secure the horse and cart yourself.”

Schrödinger sighed, it wasn’t the worst deal especially if he could get some decent clothing for his son. He still needed to think of a new name for the lad, as he could no longer be called ‘Julian’ if he was going to be traveling with the Witcher. 

Schrödinger watched as the woman by the fire, woke from her stupor and stood from her chair as he pulled the crowns out of his coin purse. 

The woman walked over to the innkeeper and kissed his cheek, before she walked into a back room and didn’t return as the Witcher walked out the door with his son to find a horse and cart.

Finding a farmer willing to part with both a horse and a cart was going to be a pain in the ass but it was either going by cart or walking all the way through Temeria back to Oxenfurt. Lady Luck was on his side however as he was able to find an old farmer who was willing to part with a horse and cart for a decent amount of crowns.The horse was a large draft gelding with a red coat and black main, surprisingly calm as the Witcher checked over the hooves of the animal after setting is boy down a ways away to keep him from the dangerous hooves.

“What’s your son’s name?” The farmer asked the Witcher as he pointed off to the Witcher’s side past his field of vision.

The Witcher had a slight moment of panic before he noticed that his boy had gotten yellow petals in his hair from rolling around in the grass close to where the adults were talking, but much farther than where he had set the boy down. Schrödinger had to think of a name for the child fast, before the old man became suspicious and tried to take his boy away. Seeing the yellow petals in the boy’s hair and on the borrowed tunic, got the Witcher thinking of the weed they came from and ‘Jaskier’ was the only thing that seemed to fit the lad.

“Jaskier, come away from there” Schrödinger he called out as the little boy wandered closer to the animal pens. “My apologies for that, you know how children can be I’m sure”

“Oh yes… I remember when my boys would go out all day and come back covered in mud like pigs” The farmer laughed awkwardly as if recalling a distant and bittersweet memory.

The Witcher was unsure of what to say next as he did not want to seem rude but was able to finish the transaction and still have enough coin to pay for a meal and a night in the inn. 

The sun was just setting behind the horizon when they made it back to the inn after finishing the spending trip and setting the horse up in the stables. It seemed that all of the menfolk who had been working the fields had come in after the day's work to sit and quietly drink in the small building.

“Good to see you back, how did finding a horse go?” The innkeeper asked as he set plates of food on the table that the family of two were sitting at. 

“It went as well as it could, a nice fellow sold us a gentle beast and cart for a decent price.” Schrödinger explained as he gently pulled the food over to Jaskier and began to feed him small bites.

“Good good, say I never did get your name. My own is Johan and that’s my wife Lydia” The innkeeper waved gently toward where his wife was wiping down the counter of the bar.

“Ah yes my apologies, my name is Erwin of Rinde and this is my son Jaskier” Schrödinger nodded to the innkeeper as he took a sip of ale that the keeper passed him.  
“Rinde? That’s a fair way from here, what brings you out this far?”

“I have a cousin who lives near Hamm in Verden, just came from there after his wedding.” 

The innkeeper’s wife brought over a small steaming pot of tea and placed it on the table with a couple of cups.   
“I thought some tea might help the little one to sleep better tonight. It’s warm and will relax him after the long day.” She spoke softly looking at her husband with a dim expression before she turned and left the table to tend to the other patrons before Schrödinger could thank her.

The innkeeper said his good nights as well as he turned back to 

Schrödinger poured the tea into a cup for Jaskier, lightly blowing on the liquid to cool it to safe drinking temperature and taking a sip of the drink to insure that it wouldn’t hurt the boy to drink it.   
The tea was sweet as it hit his tongue and seemed to be gentle enough for Jaskier so the Witcher assisted the boy in taking sips between spoonfuls of food.

Halfway through the meal his boy had started to drift off in the middle of eating, his head almost mashing into the potatoes on his plate.  
Seeing that Jaskier was falling asleep more than eating and feeling rather tired himself, Schrödinger finished his food and excused himself as he gently picked up Jaskier and went to the room that he paid for. 

Exhausted from the day and a warm meal in their bellies, Schrödinger changed Jaskier into the newly acquired sleeping tunic and lined the edge of the bed with his own bedroll to avoid the baby from rolling off in his sleep, before setting the sleeping boy onto the bed and tucking the covers over the baby.

Assured that Jaskier was as safe as he possibly could be and not bothering to change out of the clothes he was wearing, Schrödinger crawled onto the bed, curled close to his son and fell into an exhausted sleep.


	3. Of Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schrödinger wakes without his baby and is on the hunt for Jaskier, and the one’s who took him. 
> 
> Be afraid, be very afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boo! I’m Alive! 
> 
> I have kicked the Kikimora that is my depression into a pit! Though i think it may try to climb out and eat me!
> 
> This is subject to editing and as always constructive criticism is appreciated!

Something was wrong, Schrödinger knew that as soon as he woke up. His head felt as if it were stuffed with wool and moving was slow and clumsy. This wasn’t the normal hangover from Sweet Mouse, this was something else entirely that his embumant of Sweet Mouse had allowed. Schrödinger had been drugged.

With growing panic Schrödinger groggily lifted himself onto his forearms and found that he was still in the bed of the inn, the sun had not yet risen at all and yet Jaskier was nowhere to be found in the cradle of his arms. A growing rage soon took over his mind, Sweet Mouse had run its course and was no longer in his system but that worked just fine for Schrödinger as he could smell that the innkeeper had been in his room not that long ago. 

It was obvious to Schrödinger that the innkeeper had been the one to take his son. The smell of cheap ale and poorly cooked food that made up the innkeepers scent was recent to the room. 

They would pay for taking his child.

Changing out of the clothes he had worn to bed and quickly into his armour, the Witcher stalked silently out of his room and down the stairs to the dining area of the inn. Sitting by the fire was the wife, Lydia, listlessly watching the fire and gently petting a small doll in her hands.

Schrödinger pulled the dagger from its hilt on his belt and held it to the woman’s throat from behind, grabbing a handful of her hair as he did. Light enough to not cut her off from speaking but enough pressure to ensure that she knew that one wrong move and she was dead.  
“Where is my son?” He growled in tightly contained rage barely resisting the urge to just slit her throat and rampage till he found Jaskier.

The woman shuddered in his hold, “I told him that this wouldn’t fix anything, but he never listens…” Lydia whispered softly as she cradled the doll in her hands. 

“They took him to the witch”

“A witch?” Schrödinger questioned, tightening his hold on the dagger slightly. Soft fire light glinting on the blade.

“She lives near the Adalette river, we had a drought that killed half of our crops. Yhany, a young man who stopped by once and a while said that she could make it rain so we didn’t lose everything but then the rain wouldn’t stop. So we went to her again to stop the rain she conjured, but nothing she does is free.” 

“And just what was her price?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that there are no children here, that was her price, for half of the children in the village to make it rain and then the other half to make it stop.” The woman cried as she tightened her hold of the doll bringing up to her chest and cradling it there. 

“If you paid all that then why take my son?!” Schrödinger spat as he pulled the dagger away from her neck. 

“I didn’t want to but Johan thought that the witch could bring the crops back if we brought her another child!” Lydia clutched at the doll, curling in on herself as she began to sob. “I told them to leave her alone! She had already taken so much from us, but we had nothing else to lose!”

Schrödinger backed away from the broken woman, he needed more information about this ‘witch’.

“Where can i find this witch?” He demanded.

“I don’t know! I only know she lives by the river, please I just want all this to stop!”

Seeing that he was going to get nothing more out of her Schrödinger left the sobbing woman and stormed outside. It couldn’t have been that long ago but he needed to move quickly if he was going to save his son from a sorceress that had a need for children.

Following the tracks left by the innkeeper and what appeared to be some cohorts the Witcher made his way into the dark.

A monster for monsters.


End file.
